


Warmth

by thegreatgayjatsby



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Campfires, Gen, Huddling For Warmth, Platonic Cuddling, s4e1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 19:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4192227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatgayjatsby/pseuds/thegreatgayjatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the Hound begrudgingly holds Arya because she's cold and whining prevents him from sleeping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> I just. Really like them, as a friendly couple.

The road had been hard that day, the terrain practically innavigable. Sharing one horse wasn’t exactly the first choice of travel for most people, and Arya was included in that demographic. The gelding’s withers were sharp, digging into the backs of her thighs, and she was tired of clutching mane with one hand and the Hound’s jerkin with the other. Her fingers were sore from the chaffing leather, and her back hurt from balancing without slumping into the Hound’s chest. 

The Hound was in a much similar position. Riding over harsh ground wasn’t a difficult task for him, but near cradling a little girl while doing so was more trouble than it was worth. Or, rather, it was worth it, because the handsome sum he was to get for dragging the Stark girl around the countryside was going to pay him for this nonsense. 

She certainly was a whiner, this one. Always hungry, always thirsty, always sore. She never stopped begging for different circumstances. Compared to another, or rather, any other young Lady of the Realm, perhaps, she was a blessing. Most of the time, she spoke her complaints, than grit her teeth, and shut her mouth. The Hound was thankful, for that. 

Arya settled by the fire, knees tucked up against her chest, arms wrapped tight around her legs. The Hound picked his teeth with a bone from their dinner, a rabbit. Arya plucked absentmindedly away at the skin lining her grimy nails. The silence between them was companionable. 

The Hound tossed the bone into the fire, cracking his knuckles one by one as he stood, moving towards the horses, where they were tied at the outskirts of their camp. The wind was growing fierce in the trees, howling away as the two of them settled in for the night. The Hound gathered their bedrolls, tossing Arya’s towards her and unfurling his own upon the ground.

Arya watched him as she fixed her own up, careful to avoid the crackling flame to her side. The Hound tucked himself under his cloak, letting out a heavy sigh as he settled. Arya followed suit, rubbing at her eyes with her fists. She was exhausted from their journey. 

Not, exhausted enough, however, to let the night go peacefully, it seemed, to the Hound. She spoke, voice too loud in his ears. “It’s still too cold.” 

The Hound grunted, making a rough gesture toward the fire. “‘s a heat source right there.”

Arya rolled closer to the flames, content with the answer. The Hound was on the verge of sleep when she spoke again, and he could near feel his ruined face begin to ache. “It’s still too cold.”

“Fucking hell.” The Hound spat out, shoving himself and his bedroll with him over to the girl’s side. “Come here then, will you?” He growled, opening his arms slightly. 

Arya beamed and scooted over as well, bedroll tucked tight beneath her. She nestled up against the Hound’s broad chest, relaxing there and closing her eyes. “‘s better.” She grinned, settling there. 

The Hound sighed softly and shook his head, dropping a heavy arm around the younger’s waist. Only for warmth, he promised himself, nothing more.


End file.
